


I'll spin you around

by MaraSenpai1997



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Book-based, Cheesy, Cinderella Elements, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 20:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14528262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraSenpai1997/pseuds/MaraSenpai1997
Summary: “I’m so excited for the ball,” Garrett said, oblivious to the fact that Bram had tuned him out ages ago. “It’s going to be loads of fun.”“Can’t wait,” Bram mumbled, pressing his nose almost against the pages of the book.Once a year, his mind told him.Only four days.Bram hadn't been looking forward to his best friends birthday, as that meant four days of enduring woman fawning over him while trying to marry Garrett, after all, why pick the scholar if you can have the crown? But one lady, using the pseudonym Jacques, managed to take Bram's breath and heart away. (If she only could be a guy, oh,wait).





	I'll spin you around

**Author's Note:**

> This happens when I'm hit with inspiration. Twenty-four hours, nearly 9k and a poor editing job. (Ignore my poor English, poor writing and poor editing job). Comments are greatly appreciated! (I hope that they're pretty in character, I followed the book considering I haven't watched the movie yet).
> 
> **Title:** Happily Ever After - He is We

**Day I**

 

“So, what do you think?” Garrett asked, twirling around in his suit as if it was a flowy ball-gown. “Do you think the ladies will be impressed?”

 

Bram reluctantly closed his book, knowing that Garrett wouldn’t leave him alone till he gave the stamp of approval, even if that could take hours and too many suits. Bram wondered why Garrett would even try, he was the crown prince, women would full over him no matter what he wore. (As long as he wore clothes, of course).

 

He was wearing a navy blue tailcoat with golden trim and stitches, a crisp white dress shirt underneath it and matching black pants.  Bram supposed he looked fine, though honestly everything that Garrett wore looked fine on him. Unlike Garrett, the seamstresses knew what fitted him and whatnot. That’s why they were hired in the first place.

 

“You look fine,” Bram said, watching the smile fall of Garrett’s face.

 

“Just fine?” Garrett asked.

 

“It doesn’t really fit your mask, does it?” Bram argued though it was a weak excuse. He might like men, and apparently, this made you a professional when it came to colours, but Bram had no idea what he was doing. “Maybe the white waistcoat with golden trimming? Your mask is white with gold.”

 

Garrett unbuttoned the waistcoat and carelessly dropped it on the chair before grabbing the white one.

 

“And change your shirt to black,” Bram added, realising that white-on-white was a bit too much. It made Garrett almost look pure, and while a great guy, he wasn’t innocent or pure.

 

Thankfully, Garrett listened to him and switched shirts before putting on the white waistcoat. It looked good on him, though so did the navy coloured one. Bram would have to send his compliments to the designers and seamstresses, knowing that Garrett would forget to do so.

 

“It looks good,” Bram said before Garrett could ask. “The ladies will adore you.”

 

Garrett beamed at him and twirled around experimentally, once again trying to see if the non-existing skirt would twirl. “I look quite fantastic, don’t I?”

 

“Sure,” Bram said, returning his attention back to this book. He truly, platonically, loved Garrett, but this ball was the last thing on his mind.

 

To celebrate Garrett’s twenty-first birthday, his parents had thrown a large ball. Four nights of women dressing up and impressing the crown prince, trying to steal his heart in those few days. Bram considered this quite unlikely to happen, considering this was the fourth ball thrown for Garrett (hence the four days), and Garrett hadn’t come close to picking someone.

 

In the past, Bram had quite enjoyed them. However, at some point girls and women in big dresses started to bore him (and a few days later he realised he was gay — that explained a lot), and now it was more like a babysitting duty than actually enjoying it himself. But, it was only four days in a year, and maybe one of the women would drag their brother, cousin, distant relative or friend with them and Bram could enjoy his time a little.

 

“I’m so excited for the ball,” Garrett said, oblivious to the fact that Bram had tuned him out ages ago. “It’s going to be loads of fun.”

 

“Can’t wait,” Bram mumbled, pressing his nose almost against the pages of the book.

 

_Once a year_ , his mind told him. _Only four days._

 

~*~

 

After the third, polite, dance, Bram left the crowd of poufy dresses and made way for the snack table. Garrett, or more likely his parents, preferred to call it the table with refreshments, but food was food, and it was filled with delicious snacks Bram could spend his time with. (It almost sounded sensual till he realised that he would eat most of them — yeah, that was a bit complicated).

 

Picking up a flute with champagne, Bram tried to find the least exotic looking snacks. It was quite funny, really. Despite being born and raised in the castle, and being part of Garrett’s court for as long as he could remember, he still had a very picky, and cheap appetite. Or maybe it was for the fact his mother didn’t have quite the expensive taste and didn’t have the money to boot.

 

Someone tapped his shoulder, and putting up a forced smile on his face, Bram turned around. Right now, he was glad he was wearing a mask. It did a great job dulling most of his emotions because he felt slack-jawed.

 

While preferring men, Bram could appreciate beauty. And this girl, correction, _woman_ , was absolutely stunning. She had a boyish figure, with little filling the top of the ball gown. But the top accentuated the waist nicely, and the skirt was flowy but not too poufy. The colour was also stunning. The colour was Prussian Blue (he should stop spending time with the seamstresses of the royal court), which both complimented the cooler undertones of her skin and her _eyes_. Her eyes were framed by a simple, black mask which made her grey eyes pop out. Her blond hair was surprisingly short, barely reaching the nape of her neck, but it suited her. Though, he supposed that he liked her smile the most. Not flirty, hopeful or confident, but slightly puzzled.

 

“Is there anything eatable?” she asked, gesturing to the snack table. “It all looks… expensive.”

 

Scanning the table, Bram spotted a few fairly light looking snacks — appetisers. Soft puffs with chocolate filling, if he recalled correctly. He had heard the kitchen-staff talking about them, being rather excited to add chocolate to the mix. (Chocolate was usually too messy for these things).

 

“The puffs,” Bram said, plucking two of them off the platter and handing one to the woman. “They have chocolate in them if I recall correctly.”

 

The woman’s eyes lit up, and she took an enthusiastic bite out of it. Crumbs and chocolate clung to her lips as she finished it in a couple of bites, looking rather happy with his choice of snack.

 

Carefully taking a bite out of his own, Bram understood the woman’s blissful expression. They were great.

 

_Compliment the kitchen_ , he mentally noted. He seriously questioned where they would be if it weren’t for him. Bram wasn’t even Garrett’s personal assistant, more like a friend that was stuck with a second job as a babysitter and personal assistant, something Bram neither studied or volunteered for.

 

“It’s amazing,” the woman moaned, wiping away the crumbs with the back of her hand before growing scarlet.

 

“I have better manners, really,” the woman reassured, patting her dress for pockets. “And I don’t have pockets. Shit.”

 

Laughing, Bram offered her his own handkerchief.

 

“Not used to wearing dresses?” he asked.

 

It took a few seconds for him to realise that he wasn’t asking it out of polite interest but because he was actually curious. Over the years, Bram had figured out that the authentic women were the best to talk with.

 

“Not exactly, no,” the woman said, smiling sheepishly.

 

Her eyes flickered over to the rest of the platter with puffs.

 

“Can I?”

 

“Of course,” Bram said.

 

He doubted that many people would miss out on them, as most girls were too busy impressing Garrett, and it would be a waste to throw it away after the party. In addition to that, the way her face lit up was absolutely worth it.

 

“I could live on this,” she said, almost stuffing the second in her mouth. “It’s so good.”

 

It should be gross, it shouldn’t be the way a princess should behave. But Bram found it endearing. She was most likely a commoner, who used the ball as an excuse to dress up prettily and stuff herself with food.

 

“What’s your name?” Bram asked when she finished her second puff. Despite shoving the thing into her mouth, her lips remained pretty clean.

 

“Si — Nor, wait,” a flush sat high on her cheeks. “This is a masquerade ball, right? So our names should be…”

 

“A secret, if possible.”

 

Frowning in concentration, the woman played with her dress, pulling up the top, smoothing out the skirt, pushing down the back.

 

“Jacques,” she said with a half-smile. “I would have said Jacqueline, but that’s quite a mouthful. Yours?”

 

Racking his brain, Bram tried to think up a nickname. He hadn’t bother before, as nobody had asked for his name yet. “Blue,” he settled on.

 

“Not lapis?” Jacques asked cheekily. “I think your waistcoats fits that colour better than blue.”

 

He was glad to hear that he wasn’t the only one spending too much time around colour-experts.

 

“Blue will do just fine,” Bram grinned.

 

Jacques smiled in return, unconsciously fiddling with Bram’s handkerchief.

 

Sipping his champagne, Bram racked his brain to keep this conversation going without leading her on. Jacques was a great woman, with a love of food and was entirely authentic to herself, but she remained a woman.

 

“So, why the snack table and not the dance floor?”

 

“Snack table?” Jacques grinned. “Well, I’m not particularly interested in marrying the prince — don’t tell him that,” she added in a hurry. “And the dance floor is so crowded and suffocating. Plus I like food, it never has done me wrong.”

 

Bram mentally clapped himself on the back for his excellent reasoning — she _was_ here for fun and not the crown. Also, she was his ticket to get out this suffocating mess of overly excited women and a glowing Garrett.

 

“I have a suggestion,” Bram said, finishing his champagne for the little bit of liquid courage. “You, me, a quiet balcony and the entire plate of chocolate puffs.”

 

She hesitated for a moment. “Is there anything you want from me?” she asked carefully.

 

“Unless you count company, then no,” Bram tried to offer her a reassuring smile, though it was a bit awkward. “I mean, there is a plate of chocolate puffs between us, and the king would have my head if I would do anything that harms or bring discomfort to the guests — this sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

 

The last part was more a brain fart than anything else, but Jacques seemed to glow up from that comment.

 

“That’s quite reassuring, plus I can fend for myself if necessary,” she said enthusiastically, flexing her arms to show off non-existing muscles. “The answer is yes, by the way. I think it’s more enjoyable than this.” She gestured to the heavy-packed dance floor.

 

Ignoring the glares of the waiting-staff, Bram picked up the heavy-filled platter with chocolate puffs and shot Jacques a shy smile.

 

 “Then follow my lead,” he said, heading towards one of the guarded doors. The knight moved away for him, though he looked slightly sceptical. It was, for once, quite useful being good friends with Garrett.

 

~*~

 

The evening passed by so fast that Bram was surprised when the clock rang midnight. Jacques was an absolute delight to spend time with. She was charming, she had a taste for sweets, and she understood him. When he talked about the books he read, she told him about plays she had seen and had participated in. She was also a great actress, and quite funny.

 

But foremost, it hadn’t been awkward. They sat opposite of one-another, so no awkward knee-bumping or shoulder-rubbing. And the few times their fingers brushed, because they spend more time looking at each other than at the plate with puffs, it wasn’t awkward. Jacques even fought for a few, completely unnecessary but it had made Bram laugh nonetheless.

 

It was odd, really. He had no idea who Jacques was — their masks had sit in place the entire evening — but he felt like he actually knew the woman.  He hoped that she would return tomorrow, so they could see each other again, talk again and make Bram fall in love with her personality. They might not ever be romantically inclined, with his preference for men, but he really needed a better friend than Garrett and Jacques seemed like an amazing person.

 

**Day II**

 

It was surprisingly quiet at the breakfast table. To be fair, most of the usual attendants were still in bed, either sleeping off the hangover due to their excessive champagne consumption or faking the hangover to sleep in. Being able to sleep in was quite uncommon, so people utilised it whenever they got the opportunity, which included today.

 

This lead to Bram sharing breakfast with Garrett and a few court-girls that were chatting with each other.

 

“I haven’t seen you most of the night.” Garrett pointed out halfway through breakfast. “Slipped away to read a book?”

 

Bram shook his head, not quite in the mood to lie to Garrett. It wasn’t a crime what he had done, he was allowed to spend time with the ladies attending the ball. It would only be an issue if he actually ran off with the girl Garrett fancied. (Not that this would ever be an issue, but Garrett didn’t know that).

 

Garrett’s face lit up, a huge grin on his lips. “So you did sneak off with a girl, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes and no,” Bram said wearily, knowing that being vague with Garrett wasn’t the best way to go. It honestly would make things worse in the long run. “We spend our time together on one of the garden balconies talking and eating chocolate puffs I stole from the snack table.”

 

Disappointment lined Garrett’s face. “Just talking?” he asked. “No smooching? No accidental touches that left both flustered?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why.” Garrett threw his hands up the air. “Do my parents worry about _me_ not finding a wife, when you can’t flirt to save your life?”

 

 Bram wanted to argue that he could flirt, awkwardly so, but that he would save his flirting for men and not women. But this would lead to more talking, and him having to explain to his best friend he had known he was gay for over two years but never bothered to explain it to him. Yeah, no, that would be a far cry from what could be considered a brilliant idea.

 

“Because.” Bram tried to figure a way around Garrett’s question. “I’m not required to produce an heir, you do, hence the hurry.”

 

Garrett pouted and, thankfully, decided that his breakfast was more interesting than this conversation. Thank God.

 

~*~

 

Bram was in the middle of his third dance — he couldn’t skip out on it totally, sadly enough — when he spotted Jacques among the crowd. Unlike many of the ladies, she hadn’t bothered to switch up her dress. She still was eye-catching nonetheless. She was talking with Garrett, though Bram couldn’t spot any of the ease that had been there when he had been talking with her.

 

“You’re okay?” his dance partner asked, her eyes peering up at him from underneath her feathered mask.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bram said, stumbling over his words.

 

She didn’t look quite as convinced as he would have liked, but she finished the dance with him, so that was something.

 

Switching up partners, Bram caught a glimpse of Jacques dancing with Garrett. Garrett was spending too much focus on not stepping on her toes — he wasn’t quite the smooth dancer — to notice Jacques discomfort.

 

Casually steering his dance partner to were Garrett was dancing, Bram successfully managed to switch partners with Garrett. His dance partner was delighted to be dancing with the crown prince, and Jacques lit-up expression was absolutely worth it.

 

“Thank you,” she said, placing her hands on his shoulder and arm. “It was quite awkward, dancing with the prince.”

 

Pulling Jacques along, Bram found a more spacious to dance and talk. He wasn’t the biggest fan of dancing, as he lacked the technique and desire to impress.

 

“I noticed, you looked ready to run away from him, probably while screaming bloody murder.”

 

“I almost did,” Jacques admitted, grey eyes crinkling. “But that would be quite rude.”

 

“It would be,” Bram agreed, stepping out to twirl Jacques around.

 

Her dress flowed beautifully, and her laugh rang through the air.

 

Bram understood Garrett, understood why he had picked Jacques to dance with him. She was so expressive, so bright, which was funny considering she wore quite a dark dress and a black mask. He would have been smitten if Jacques had been a guy.

 

The song ended, but neither he or Jacques attempted to switch partners. Well, Jacques did look unsure, offering Bram an almost shy look.

 

“Another round?” he asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. But aside from the dancing disaster that’s Garrett, the rest of the crew are better dancers than I’m.”

 

“I honestly don’t mind.” Jacques tightened the grip on his arm. “I’m not a great dancer either, and this is fun.”

 

Bram was pretty sure that Jacques sold himself short. Her footwork was excellent; it was obvious she had done it plenty of times before. Maybe not in the traditional ballroom dance sense, but there was experience behind her steps. Something the occasional dancer like Bram lacked.

 

“Want to switch?” he asked mid-song, realising that they hadn’t moved a muscle since the last tune had finished.

 

“Partners?”

 

Bram shook his head. “Positions — I know how to follow; do you know how to lead?”

 

The sole reason Bram knew how to follow was that he had helped Garrett out, a lot. None of the maidens of the court wanted to practice with Garrett anymore, as it was a recipe for disaster. Though, he wondered where Jacques would have learnt to lead. She was the youngest of three and had an older brother to teach her.

 

“You’re sure?” Jacques asked, avoiding all eye contact.

 

This made Bram realise that she actually knew how to dance, which was a bit peculiar but not unwelcome.

 

“I mean,” she continued. “You’re a guy and…”

 

Bram snorted and took Jacques hands in his before pressing them against his waist, holding them there. “I doubt I will feel less like a guy because I took on the female position in a dance.”

 

Jacques had grown scarlet in the face, her grey eyes big-and-wide.

 

“Okay,” Jacques finally said, nerves woven through her words. “I mean, that’s a yes. I’m fine with leading. It has been a while though.”

 

Finally letting go of her hands, Bram felt a steady pressure on his waist. Knowing that Jacques wouldn’t run away, he placed on hand on her arm and the other on her shoulder. Likewise, for him, it had been a while he had been in the following position.

 

The next song hit them soon, and Jacques pulled him into the dance. In the beginning, Bram noticed the sideways glances they got, but it was hard to keep the focus on anything else but the joy on Jacques' face. He was unsure whenever this had been a  good idea or a horrible idea. Most likely the latter.

 

**Day III**

 

Garrett was sitting on his bed, which wasn’t quite appreciated, but he hardly could kick Garrett out of his bed. One, because Garrett was his friend. Two, because his calves were sore. Incredibly, incredibly sore.

 

“I want to die,” Bram moaned, burying his face into his pillow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

 

“Nope,” Garrett said, popping the ‘p’ and poking Bram’s leg. “I’m surprised you danced yourself sore. You rarely dance more than a few rounds, and now we had to pry you off the dance floor.”

 

“That was a mistake,” Bram said.

 

It wasn’t. Bram had the time of his life last night. He liked dancing with Jacques, a lot. Because it wasn’t just dancing. It was fun, they talked, they laughed. Bram had been spun around so much that he had gotten dizzy at one point, stumbling into Jacques, but the woman all had taken in stride, laughing instead of growing flustered and shy.

 

“Who was she?” Garrett asked, and all the fun was out of his voice. “She was one of the most beautiful women at the ball, and she could only look at you.”

 

Guilt settled deep in Bram’s gut. He was basically stealing away one of the few people Garrett found interesting, and he was low-key giving her hope. Because he loved her personality, but the physical attraction wasn’t there, and he supposed that things like kisses and hugs shouldn’t be uncomfortable and awkward.

 

“Jacques,” Bram mumbled, not meeting Garrett’s gaze. “Jacqueline, actually, but Jacques is a lot shorter. She’s the same woman I spend the first night with, she’s amazing.”

 

Meeting Garrett’s gaze, he saw surprise written all over it. “Oh,” he said. “You’re genuinely like her.”

 

Bram sighed, not wanting to deal with Garrett. “Of course I do. She is a great person, not just pretty.”

 

“She also is a bit crazy,” Garrett chuckled. “I mean, leading the dance? That’s quite a bold move.”

 

“I suggested it. She is a better dancer than me – she does theatre.”

 

And finally, Garrett snapped his jaw shut and remained quiet, leaving him to agonise in peace.

 

At least, for maybe ten minutes before Garrett had to say something.

 

“If you like her, you should try it,” he whispered. “I mean, you sound and look so happy talking about her, I wished I had that connection with someone. Well, someone other than you but I think you would drive me crazy after one week of marriage.”

 

To be fair, Bram would have thrown in the towel after two days of marrying Garrett, _if_ it ever got that far.

 

“Do I really look that happy?” Bram asked.

 

“Absolutely besotted,” Garrett said cheekily. “Though, also hesitant. Like, I admit I watched the two of you for a while, and you’re a bit hesitant when it comes to physically touching her. Like, there wasn’t even a goodbye kiss. I think I kissed more women this night than you, and you have someone you genuinely like.”

 

This would be the best moment to come clean to Garrett about being gay, but he honestly was scared. If Garrett thought that a woman leading the dance was odd, then he might wouldn’t take Bram’s confession serious, take it as a joke. So, he just kept quiet and snuggled into his pillow, hoping that most of the ache would be gone by tonight when the third night of the ball would happen.

 

~*~

 

The ball just had started, but Bram had yet to bother to enter the grand ballroom, meet the guests and dance with a few. The reasons? Well, for starters, his calves were killing him, so dancing would be torture. And, he wasn’t quite ready to see Jacques yet. Because it was hard. Because he wished more than ever Jacques was a guy, or that he liked women. Either option was fine, just not both.

 

Instead, he had found a quiet spot on a balcony, watching over the empty garden. He had given up on reading a book a while ago, as the light was sparse and the noise from the arriving crowd was too much.

 

The knock on the glass door caused his heart to drop low, though not as low as his spirits. Surely Garrett had sent some staff to find him and drag him to the ball. He wasn’t even dressed yet, as nothing beat the comfort of his leggings and tunic. Maybe his well-tailored clothes looked better on him, but they weren’t as comfortable.

 

Ignoring the ache in his calves, Bram got up and turned around.

 

“I’m com—”

 

Jacques looked a little flustered, red settled high on her cheeks, eyes a little bit wide and teeth digging into her bottom lip.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You weren’t there, and when I asked where you were, one of the waiting-staff escorted me to here. I assume you don’t want to be bothered? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been here, I’m so sorry I—”

 

Bram was, well, confused. The staff knew where he was, so most likely Garrett knew it too, but none of them was here to fetch him. And by the looks of it, Jacques wasn’t here to fetch him either.

 

“It’s fine,” he said, leaning against the bench to take the weight off his legs. “I’m just… not quite in the mood tonight. Plus, my calves are _killing_ me.”

 

Jacques face lit up. “Mine too, I thought I was the only one that woke up with sore calves this morning.”

 

It was still unnaturally awkward between the two of them, and Bram was racking his brains what to do. He knew that talking with Jacques shouldn’t be this awkward. Like, they had talked the last two nights without issue. So what had changed? He didn’t know.

 

When his brain finally caught up and figured out a response, Bram blurted it out.

 

“How did you even recognise me? I mean, I’m wearing no mask and suit.”

 

Jacques flushed. “Your eyes, your hands,” she smiled softly. “Eh, I mean, spending two evenings together make you recognise people easily.”

 

Bram felt guilty and unsure. He wanted to be comfortable with Jacques, like the first two nights. But he also wanted to avoid giving her hope that he was attracted to her. (He was, to her personality).

 

 

“Oh, well, you aren’t quite hard to recognise either,” he said, mentally kicking himself. “But, I won’t be joining the part tonight, unless they drag me there. My legs will kill me. But, you’re free to join me here, though it will be quite boring.”

 

He honestly had expected her to reject his offer. He wasn’t in the best mood, and it’s rather awkward between the two of them. She would have so much more fun spending time with someone else. Yet, she didn’t meet his expectations. She just nodded, stepped on the balcony, closed the door and walked around the bench to sit on it.

 

“Are you coming?” she asked, looking over her shoulder to meet Bram’s staring gaze. “It’s a bit awkward talking to your back.”

 

Bram sat down next to her, making sure that there was enough space between them. Though her dress did a good job of that, as it was big enough to take a lot of space.

 

“Should I take my mask off too?” Jacques asked.

 

Bram was slightly taken aback by the question. It was a masquerade ball, so the masks were a must. But, on the other hand, neither of them were actually attending the ball. They were just sitting here, as Jacques and Blue. Knowing each other’s face wouldn’t change anything, as they have never met before. Otherwise, Bram would have recognised her. She was hard to forget, after all.

 

“You don’t have to,” Bram said, though he was curious. What did Jacques look underneath the mask?

 

A mask hid way more than you would have expected. The shape of the eyes, the eyebrows, the nose and the general bone-structure of the face. Jacques probably would look pretty.

 

“I prefer though, then we’re even,” Jacques argued. “Plus I can’t see that well with this thing on.”

 

This left Bram a little puzzled, but he knew that the mask narrowed one's vision, so he assumed that this was what she was talking about.

 

“In the end, it’s your choice.”

 

Jacques beamed at him and untied her mask, letting it fall into her lap. Her face was, as expected, pretty. Her features were soft, and without the mask, her grey eyes still popped. Then, she pocketed the mask in a hidden pocket — she probably had altered the dress after the first night — and her other hand retrieved another object.

 

Glasses. Jacques wore glasses. That’s what she had meant with being unable to see well. She was near-sighted.

 

“Sorry about the glasses,” she said, pushing them on her nose. “They aren’t quite as pretty, but I need them.”

 

Yes, they dulled the grey colour her eyes held. But the way she wore them made the glasses a piece of her. It was her, and they fitted her better than none or the mask.

 

Why was he gay? Seriously, why was he gay, because Jacques was everything he liked, _loved,_ in someone, aside from the gender.

 

“You’re okay?” Jacques asked, her hilt tilted slightly. “Are they that bad?”

 

“No,” Bram croaked, mentally hitting himself. “They look fine. They fit you.”

 

Jacques flushed red and moved her gaze to the garden laying below them.

 

Why did he have to make things awkward again? Maybe he should just tell her that he was gay, that he liked men. That would make things so much easier. She might be heartbroken, which would be a first, everyone preferred Garrett over him. Not that he could blame them, who would pick the awkward scholar over the crown prince?

 

_Jacques did_ , his mind supplied. Maybe not even in a romantic sense, but Jacques had decided that she wanted to spend time with him instead of Garrett, while Garrett had shown interest in her.

 

Then Jacques cooed, getting up, wincing, but nonetheless wobbling towards the railing, leaning over it to peer into the garden.

 

“You’re okay?” Bram asked, getting up to stand next to Jacques, trying to figure out what had brought that smile to her face. Maybe rabbits were visiting the garden?

 

He couldn’t spot any rabbits, but he saw a few of the guests. A group of ladies talking, one of the waiting-staff dancing with a woman in red — she looked a bit older than the rest and—

 

Two ladies were dancing underneath a tree. Well, swaying was a better description, as they moved around with faint steps, moving only a little. And the both were glowing with happiness.

 

“Do you know them?” Bram asked, letting his gaze flicker between Jacques and the two ladies.

 

Jacques shook her head. “I wished. They look so happy.”

 

“They do.”

 

This was the opportunity to tell her that he was gay. But he also didn’t want to lose her — she has been the brightest light in the last three days. Which sounded cheesy, but he found it hard to deny.

 

“One day, I want to have the same,” Jacques says, her eyes bright behind her glasses. “Someone who looks at me like that. Someone who thinks I’m their world.”

 

It was clear that she hadn’t planned on saying that, as she looked quite alarmed mere seconds after. Bram, however, thought it was endearing. It showed a piece of her, a piece of her longing for romance.

 

“I agree,” Bram said quietly, staring at the duo of ladies who were giggling and smiling now.

 

Maybe one day he would stand there with the guy he liked like, a guy who smiled at him like Bram was his everything like Jacques had said. Having someone to love him sounded lovely.

 

**Day IV**

 

“I have to tell you something,” Jacques said, breaking off the easy atmosphere that had hung around them.

 

Bram closed his book and gave Jacques all of his attention. She was fidgeting nervously, gaze settled on something behind Bram and not on him. Did he do something wrong?

 

“Okay,” he said. “Are you okay? You look nervous.”

 

“I _am_ nervous,” Jacques said, getting up and starting to pace around. “There is so much to tell,” she started. “For starters, I lied, about so many things, and I’m sorry about that. And I owe you an explanation, for everything.”

 

Honestly, Bram was lost for words. How much could she have lied about?

 

“For starters, I love every second I spend with you. You’re cute, with an amazing personality to boot. I smile when I’m thinking about you — my family noticed and asked which guy I was thinking about,” she smiled for a brief moment. “But I feel like I lead you on. I do like you, and you probably noticed. And you might like me, I’m not sure. The only issue is…”

 

She looked near tears, which made Bram wanting to stand up and hug her. But that wasn’t the thing to do right now. What was the issue? Please don’t tell him she was an assassin, send here to kill Garrett, the king and the queen. She could hide plenty underneath that dress, and she was allowed in the areas of the castle that was forbidden for the rest of the guests. Did Bram seriously help Garrett’s killer to get her plan in motion? Oh dear, how would he—

 

“I’m a guy,” Jacques said. “A male. So you might like me as a girl, but that’s not who I’m. I’m a guy, always have been. And I don’t usually go walk around in dresses and pretend to be a girl. It’s just that…”

 

“… My sister was supposed to go, my youngest. But she twisted her ankle a few days before the ball. We already had accepted the invitation, and it would be rude to cancel it last minute. Having a good relationship with the royal family is quite beneficial. But my sister, the oldest one, couldn’t go. She is already engaged, and it would be awkward if the prince chose her. Because that would be even worse, at least that was what my parents thought. So I went. Because if the prince fancied me, we always could send my sister once her ankle is better. The dress was originally Nora’s, and she’s a bit shorter than I, but because I have no chest, so the torso still fitted and—”

 

Jacques was still rambling, explaining everything, apologising till there was no tomorrow. But Bram’s mind honestly was reeling because of the information. Jacques was a guy. A guy dressed as a girl to avoid losing his family’s reputation, but still, a guy. And he liked Bram. And he thought that Bram liked him as a _girl_ , while Bram had only liked her—him, for his personality (it would take some time getting used to) and he has wished Jacques had been a guy many, many times.

 

“And I wasn’t supposed to go back after the first night. But it has been ages I’ve enjoyed an evening that much, even if it meant dressing up in a dress, wearing a mask and being blind as a bat. But then I realised you actually liked me back, and gosh you’re really cute and—”

 

Jacques stopped talking. A few tears had slipped down his cheeks, his bottom lip was had been bitten raw, and his nose was scarlet.

 

“I will be going,” Jacques said quietly. “I mean, I understand that you’re pissed and sorry for giving you hope like that. It’s just. I had fun, and fun pretending for a little while that a cute guy would be actually interested in me. I’m sorry, I, just. Well, goodbye.”

 

~*~

 

Bram’s mind was still reeling. The woman whose personality he fell for turned out to be a man. Which would mean things wouldn’t be awkward — he wouldn’t have to feel the softness of a chest when hugging or being close to him, and Jacques being shirtless wouldn’t make him squirm, because it was a perfectly normal chest. No unwanted body-parts. He didn’t have anything against breasts, it wasn’t just his thing.

 

And, what was better, Jacques had admitted he liked Bram. Bram of all people! That was quite wonderful, really. Almost like a dream come true. A great personality, a guy, and he were so pretty.

 

He slipped into the ballroom pretty much unnoticed, trying to find Garrett. He wasn’t going to let this chance be wasted, but he also couldn’t just completely ditch Garrett without giving him a heads-up. This was the last night of the ball, and maybe his friend needed his support to pick a wife. Or at least a potential wife. There is always a trial time, to get to know each other better and see if it works out.

 

“Garrett,” Bram almost shouted, waving his arm wildly to catch his friend’s attention.

 

Garrett, who had been chatting with a girl in a yellow ball gown, looked at him in surprise. He exchanged a few more words with the girl before marching towards Bram.

 

“Where is the girl, what’s her name again, Jacqueline?” Garrett asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

 

Not wanting to give away Jacques secret — he wasn’t that cruel — Bram bit his lip and shrugged. “It’s complicated. But she left in a hurry, and I haven’t managed to say anything to her — at least not talk about… about the important things.”

 

Like the fact Bram had an absolutely ridiculous crush on Jacques and hated himself for not telling Jacques about his feelings. He didn’t care that he saw himself as a ‘fraud’ for personating a girl. Bram knew the reason why, and he could get behind it. Plus, it didn’t change his feelings for Jacques, they probably made them even stronger considering his dedication to his family and siblings.

 

“And let me guess, you don’t know who she is?” Garrett guessed, a smug grin on his face.

 

Bram shook his head. He was planning on checking the guest list and cross-referencing them to the achieves. Maybe, this way he would find someone that fitted the picture. Not insanely wealthy but not poor either. Two sisters, one younger called Nora, one older who was engaged (not that there were any records about that). Birth year probably around Bram’s, give or take a year. Still, it would take ages to find that person, as the guest list was insanely long.

 

“The good news is, my friend, that I did some digging,” Garrett said. “I know who you’re looking for. Nora Spier. Here, I have the direction to where they live. It’s a good family. Nice. Their son Simon is our age, so maybe you could also become friends with your brother-in-law.”

 

_Or more like kiss my brother-in-law_ , Bram thought, making himself snort a little. That sounded so wrong, but in the context, it would be realistic. Awkward, but realistic.

 

He took the slip of paper that Garrett had whipped out from nowhere with trembling hands. Taking in the words, Bram noticed that it was a short walk, which his still sore calves would highly appreciate.

 

He was going to see Jacques. _No_ , he was going to see _Simon_. Now he knew Jacques’ name, he realised how fitting the nickname Jacques was.

 

_‘Jacques a dit’_ was the French version for _‘Simon says’._ It’s much cleverer than Bram’s lame nickname Blue, which was based on the fact he wore a blue waistcoat that day.

 

“Thank you, Garrett,” he said sincerely. “This means a lot to me.”

 

Garrett grinned and gingerly slapped his shoulder. “No worries. Go get your girl.”

 

~*~

 

His legs were burning by the time he arrived at the Spier’s family home, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. First Simon, oh gosh he liked how that name sounded, then it was time to rest his legs and vow to never dance again.

 

Knocking on the door, Bram tried to make himself look a bit presentable. He was still dressed in his clothes from the masquerade, which was a white dress shirt, black pants and yet again, a blue waistcoat.

 

A smaller, female Simon opened the door, leaning on a crutch and looking at him wearily. This must be Nora, as she looked younger than Simon so most likely was his younger sister.

 

“How can I help you?” Nora asked, sounding a little hostile.

 

“Um, well.” How was he going to explain this? “I want to talk to your brother.”

 

All colour drained from her face. “You’re going to arrest him,” she said, horrified. “Please don’t arrest him, he hasn’t done anything wrong, really. I would have gone if it hadn’t been for my fu—”

 

“I’m not here to arrest him,” Bram said, unable to hide his confusion. “I just want to clear things up.”

 

She didn’t budge at all, looking quite determined to keep him out.

 

What did he have to do to look like he wasn’t there to hurt Simon? Because it seemed that Nora was thinking that.

 

“I’m Blue,” Bram blurted out, and that seemed to do the trick.

 

Nora looked at him in surprise, before narrowing her gaze and checked him out as if he was a racehorse.

 

“Cute. Expressive brown eyes. Light brown skin, dark curls and knobbly hands. It sounds like you,” she said nonchalantly.

 

Bram, on the other hand, was a mess. Jacques — eh, Simon, why was this so hard? It went from ‘her’ to ‘him’, now it was ‘Simon’ instead of ‘Jacques’. Anyway, Simon must have mentioned all these things to his family, or at least his sister. It was hard to believe someone as amazing as Simon actually liked him. Talking about dreams come true, cheesy, romantic dreams, but still, maybe it could be Simon and him standing under that tree, smiling at each other and being hopelessly in love.

 

Garrett would be laughing in his face if he said this out loud.

 

“You aren’t disgusted by my brother’s detailed moaning about you?” Nora asked, this time she looked slightly surprised, as if Bram reacted differently than expected.

 

“Honestly, I’m ecstatic,” Bram admitted, feeling his cheeks growing even warmer. “I like him a lot—”

 

“ _Him_ ,” Nora asked sharply.  “You like him and not the female he portrayed?”

 

“When I only knew him as a female, I was attracted to him for his personality, but I’m not physically attracted to women. I prefer flat chest, shorter hair and less poof — though the dress looked nice on him. It complimented his—”

 

“Eyes,” Nora finished, and to Bram’s relief, she was smiling.

 

“You passed, for now. His room is on the first floor, the one your immediate left,” she said, and before Bram could thank her, she was threatening him. “And if you hurt him, I’ll feed you to our dog.”

 

Bram recalled Simon talking about their dog, and how he was the sweetest thing ever. So he wasn’t quite as afraid as he supposed to feel, but he didn’t let Nora know that. He was happy that she didn’t slam the door straight into his face.

 

Getting inside the Spier’s family home, Bram took little time to look around. First Simon, then exploring. God, suddenly Simon had become his only priority. Before he knew it, Simon was more important than _breathing_.

 

Maybe he was already, as he took Bram’s breath away the moment he opened the bedroom door, probably thinking that Bram was his family.

 

He was beautiful. The dress had been flattering on him, but he looked better like this. A plain shirt, his hair an absolute mess, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose, a bit too long pants and bare toes that just stuck underneath the cuffs.

 

“Wait — Blue!” Simon squeaked, looking shocked to see him here. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Talking, mostly,” Bram said, trying not to stare too much. It was ridiculous how taken he was with Simon. “And not arresting you — your sister thought I was going to actually arrest you. I would have immediately called in the guards if that had been the case.”

 

Simon deflated in relief. “I thought the prince was going to be pissed.”

 

“Oh, Garrett doesn’t know,” Bram said. “He thinks I’m chasing after your sister. Though I’m grateful to him, he gave me your address.”

 

“That’s great. Are you here for my sister?”

 

“No, I—”

 

“Wait, you’re on first name basis with the prince?” Simon both looked and sounded shocked, as this was new to him. It might be, as Bram never had said what he did in the castle, and what his relationship with Garrett was.

 

Biting his bottom-lip, Bram struggled to keep a smile at bay. “Could we continue this inside? I won’t be surprised if your sister is listening down the stairs.”

 

Simon grumbled under his breath, saying something that sounded an awful lot like ‘not only my sister’, but Bram decided to ignore it.

 

“Okay, though don’t be disappointed, it hardly compares to the palace.”

 

Simon’s room was, indeed, not very big. But it was wonderful. It _was_ Simon. From the colours on the wall to the few books, the papers scattered on the small desk, the plush looking bed. It fitted.

 

Simon settled down on the bed while Bram awkwardly remained lingering at the door, not sure if he was allowed to sit anywhere. Maybe a face-to-face conversation was less awkward than sitting next to each other. This way they could read each other’s expression.

 

“Blue,” Simon said quietly, looking up at him with expectation.

 

Right, Simon didn’t know his name yet. Actually, he didn’t know that Bram knew his name.

 

“It’s Bram, actually,” Bram corrected. “Simon.”  


“Wait, how do you know my real name?” Simon asked, though his surprise was hardly noticeable between the giddiness in his voice.

 

“Garrett mentioned it,” Bram admitted. No need to impress, Simon liked him, and if he didn’t, lying wouldn’t get him anywhere. “He, surprisingly, did some research on your sister because he thought I was absolutely smitten with her. When telling me where to find your sister, he mentioned she also had an older brother called Simon. So I guessed that was you.”

 

Simon nodded. “So you’re really close to the prince?”

 

“I’m, he’s pretty much the only friend I have, and somehow he decided that I’m pretty okay too.”

 

“But that means you aren’t part of the waiting-staff?”

 

“Nope,” Bram grinned. “I’m part of Garrett’s royal court, unwanted personal assistant of Garrett because that guy is hopeless, but foremost I’m a scholar. I do a lot of research, I spend a lot of time in the library. I really enjoy it.”

 

A certain softness formed on Simon’s face, which caused Bram’s heart to speed up quite a bit. “Like your dad, right? You mentioned your dad used to be a scholar, but now teaches?”

 

“Yes, like my dad,” Bram was delighted that Simon actually remembered that. “Maybe I will also become a teacher. I think I would like that.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really. It suits you.”

 

There was silence, silence that soon would be filled with the question Bram had been expecting ages ago. Why was he here in the first place? He had assured Simon that there wouldn’t be any consequences for his actions, so he didn’t have to stay for that.

 

“Bram, why are you here? Just to tell me that I won’t be in any trouble?”

 

“No,” Bram admitted. “I mean, that wasn’t even the reason I went here I — when I thought you were a girl, three thoughts about you occupied my mind.”

 

He paused dramatically, though it was more to get his thoughts sorted.

 

“The first thing was that you’re pretty,” Bram said, ignoring the heat crawling on his cheeks. “The second thing was that you had an amazing personality I absolutely fell in love with and…”

 

“And the third thing was that I wished you were a guy. I was so attracted you on a personal level, you were so authentic, bright and funny. Did I mention you’re an amazing actor? But on a physical level, I couldn’t get past the fact that you were a girl, and years ago I established I was attracted to men. And now you’re sitting here, as a  guy, which I fell in love with because of their personality. I mean, I also find you attractive, but I liked your personality first.”

 

Simon was glowing, his eyes were bright with joy, and an enormous grin was plastered on his lips.

 

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Simon admitted.

 

“To be honest, I find it hard to believe either,” Bram was sure his smile looked all mushy and gross. “You’re just wonderful, and I sound sappy.”

 

Simon giggled. “I like sappy, to be honest. I like you too.”

 

“Is it the sap all you like? I mean, your love for everything is so endearing, I wonder how I can even compete with the love for chocolate.”

 

He had expected Simon to look conflicted at the least. He had voiced his love for the chocolate loud and clear, but the smile didn’t even falter.

 

“You think that this is a hard question?” Simon grinned. “I mean; chocolate makes me happy for a handful of minutes. You, possibly, could make me happy for countless minutes. If we don’t fall apart after a week-or-so. I mean, we know each other for only a few days and—”

 

“I want to try to make this work,” Bram blurted out. “And make those countless minutes happen. Because I haven’t been this happy for _ages_. I barely can remember enjoying talking to someone this much.”

 

He really, _really_ wanted this to work out. Because Simon made him feel more alive and happier than he had felt in years, if not ever.

 

**Day V**

 

Bram regretted returning to the castle the next day. He had slept over at the Spier’s, though on the couch as Simon’s parents weren’t too keen on him sleeping in Simon’s room. (Bram couldn’t really blame them). But the moment he had stepped inside the castle, Garrett had snatched his arm and had pulled him in the closest-by, abandoned room.

 

“And,” Garrett asked, grinning broadly. “How was Nora? I mean, you spend the night there, so everything must have worked out fine. Do you have a girlfriend now?”

 

“She was nice,” Bram said, hiding his smile behind his hand. “We talked a bit, though I feared she would slam the door in my face, and after that, she threatened to feed me to their dog.”

 

Garrett frowned in confusion. “Was she that pissed?”

 

Bram waved off Garrett’s concern, this time unable to hide the glee in his voice. “Nah, just protective.”

 

“Protective? What happened between the two of you? Did you kiss and make-up?” Garrett asked. “Is she a good kisser?”

 

“Don’t know,” Bram said, trying to sound aloof. He wasn’t quite the good actor, and it sounded forced, not that Garrett noticed. “But her brother is.”

 

Garrett looked a bit like a frog, jaw dropped and eyes bulging. “You kisses her brother? But – but, you liked her, didn’t you? Why would you kiss her brother?”

 

“It’s quite a long story, but it turned out Nora had twisted her ankle and actually couldn’t come to the ball, so her brother Simon went in her place because they had accepted the invitation and you know how your parents get on people that cancel last minute. Anyway, they do quite look alike. So yes, I still like the person I spend the evening here with, it just turned out that it was her brother, which was quite the relief.”

 

“But he’s still a guy,” Garrett said.

 

Channelling his inner actor, which wasn’t a lot, he threw Garrett a deadpanned look. “I’m gay, Garrett. Why do you think I stopped enjoying women fawning all over me and avoiding the ball as much as possible?”

 

Garrett was, once again, challenging his inner frog. “Oh. That explains a lot. Do you like him?”

 

“Of course I do,” Bram said, unable to believe that Garrett had to ask him that. “I was ready to cross-reference every guest on the list with the archives in the library to find him — I let myself being terrorised by his little sister to just see and talk to him.”

 

Garrett whistled appreciatively. “I can’t believe you found love before me — next thing you know you’re married and have adorable kids and I’m still trying to find a wife.”

 

Bram felt his heart leap into his throat. “Love? Garrett, I know him for five days. This hardly can be called love.”

 

“Sure,” Garrett said, sounding far from believing Bram. “You kissed him after knowing him for four days, and you have told me you wouldn’t kiss anyone you didn’t remotely like.”

 

“Yes, _like_ , not love,” Bram argued. “Plus it was barely anything more than a peck.”

 

Garrett smiled gleefully. “A kiss is a kiss. Just don’t come crying to me when you wake up in a few weeks and realise you’re head over heel in love with the guy.”

 

Bram wanted to argue that this wasn’t going to happen, that it would be unrealistic. Yet, falling for someone within four days was quite fast too, and it had happened. This was almost like the fairy-tale Cinderella, only he wasn’t Prince Charming, Simon wasn’t Cinderella, and they didn’t get married seconds after meeting each other.

 

“Just think about it,” Garrett said, striding back to the door. “And I want to be your best man on your wedding because without me you would never have met each other.”

 

To Bram’s own horror, Garrett hadn’t been wrong. He would have found Simon again on his own, but he would never have met Simon in the first place if it hadn’t been Garrett’s inability to find a decent girl.

 

“Fine, you will be my best man if I ever get married, which I highly doubt.”

 

“Sure sure,” Garrett said, now actually exciting the room. “I’ll remember this for your marriage, the story would be quite the crowd-pleaser. ‘Groom thought he was never going to marry the love of his life and look where he is now’ has quite a nice ring to it, hasn’t it?”

 

It actually did, though Bram would never admit that.


End file.
